Genesis
by esuterutomoru
Summary: Creation of the android Hachimenroppi. The struggle for Life and the following Hate. Warnings: IzaRoppi in the end, sci-fi, some violence, non-mainstream interpretation of Roppi's character, AU


**Disclaimer: **I do not own Drrr! or any of its characters. This is merely my interpretation, a work of fun and curiosity.

**Genesis**

Androids are all dead before they begin life.

Carefully assembled from artificial organs, steely bones and manmade flesh and skin, they are all elaborate puzzles to entertain humanity one way or another. Ever designed to be perfect because most humans hate to deal with anything out of the ordinary, it is rare that they develop humanoid hysteria. Although since they are now close enough to us in shape and workings to be considered the synthetic twin race to humanity, the occasional psychosis might happen.

* * *

It's a lengthy procedure, building one of these nifty creatures, about sixty days. In a way, fashioning them is some shape of modern art. Carefully fabricating every bone and organ first, assembling them, adding texture with flesh and covering all with a thin layer of fake skin, then leaving the grotesque doll to ripen in medical fluids designed to help the skin thicken and heal while everything sticks and gets used to its place within its new container that is the android's body.

It takes a fortnight till the Fruits are harvested, cleaned of the remnants of the fluid. Look at that one laid out on the stretcher, a man with a proud build, firm muscles and black hair pigmented to be darker than coal. At this point his flesh is still white and grey, bloodless as a corpse. IVs of the artificial blood are pumped into still dead veins to support him for an estimated time of four years before he needs to be Recharged and slowly, slowly, his skin shyly reddens with the anxious beginnings of what humans like to capitalize for impact: Life.

He is almost here now.

A nurse steps over, removes the IVs, puts him on the heart monitor and prepares him for what would be his great big welcome into the Real World.

A punch of electricity into the chest.

It's never a nice feeling, but most androids don't remember it after the first hour of life passes for them. Almost like a nasty dream, only the red marks of the pad remaining on their chest for the short while until their fake skin heals the burns.

His body stiffens with the shock as it violently slams his heart into a steady rhythm and his brain into full awareness of his surroundings and most importantly, of himself. Vision, hearing, taste, smell, touch, all five senses at once and his eyes are wide as his pupils adjust, shrinking from two large beetles to black pinpoints when he first perceives light. His mouth, dry as parchment, opens wide and he draws air into his previously empty lungs, letting it all out in an inarticulate howl of pure human instinct that scares even himself at first. His back arches, his bones creak and he strains viciously with limbs still too new to him, useless for escape. He is strapped down like a beast and he doesn't understand what the pain in every fiber of his being is, only that it will be the End of Him soon if it doesn't stop. The nurse watches his struggle with apathy, standing a safe distance away.

His new gaze wildly darts around at first then finally focuses on a screen that teaches him in minutes, pictures, words and what the Great Everything is about. It's so quick that a normal human wouldn't catch any of it, but for now, his brain is so open for new information that he sucks it up like a sponge and learns what humans would learn through years of experience. Less than three hours later, most androids leave the room fully dressed and speaking a language fluently, perfectly well-educated in human standards and the ways of society.

As minutes trickle by, the body eventually relaxes and the brain allows information to flow smoothly into place. But not his, not this time. He is tense through it all, still jerking on the restraints and it makes the nurse scowl. A glance at his watch tells him that it's been over an hour now.

A monitor beeps. The nurse jerks from where he is standing and his expression grows grave as he eyes the screen that tells him all that the man is still trying to express with his clumsy body language. He stands there with his back to the suffering near-human, silently conversing with the signs on the screen, not at all hastening to solve the situation.

See, it's like this… Mistakes may happen. We are humans after all, thus our creations may not always be perfect, but this is a Forgivable Crime, naturally.

The nurse's shoulders eventually sag and he turns the teaching monitor off with a sigh, as if saying 'I cannot fix this'. The man on the stretcher is cold sweating, shaking, moaning out scrambled syllables that are not right just yet because things would still need to settle inside his synthetic brain. The nurse doesn't look at him as he steps over to a tray and picks up a needle, the sort of needle that vets pick up when There Is Nothing To Do.

Of course, one may wonder, why not use the Pressure Point that scientists have so cleverly crafted into these artificial humans. Sometimes it happens that manually switched off androids would switch back on by themselves like they do after they're done imitating human sleep. Therefore, the Syringe is much more preferred in these situations. Afterwards, the silenced body is delivered to the dump and smashed into perfectly recyclable waste. Just like a wrecked car.

He lifts the needle as he steps over to the stretcher. The man is pleading with teary wide carmine eyes and a tongue too thick with the First Thirst to speak well and the nurse silently squirts the air bubble from the needle before lowering the syringe to the man's arm. It's a procedure he is used to and besides, he tells himself to be able to sleep at night, androids are not human beings. It is All Right.

It takes less than a second. A notion of wild, sweet human instinct and his strength is pressed to the purpose of survival. The leather snaps and his hand crushes the nurse's fingers around the glass syringe. A scream of utter terror from his lips as he stumbles back from the Monster coming to life on the gurney, tearing free from the bonds that were supposed to stop him. Blood trickles down his hand from his wounded fingers and he moans in agony, cursing the Freak with his stuttering breath of panic as the man moves from the stretcher to tower over him, tall and broad even with the useless, awkward slump in his shoulders.

The carmine eyes are wide and haunted with the fresh experience that would leave its stain on his existence for good. He watches the nurse as he's pressing his shaky little form against the machines in fright of him, eyes everywhere but on his newly glaring red orbs and his stomach churns despite being completely empty. His brain hesitantly recognizes the response as disgust and he is vaguely aware it might become his natural reaction to humans. He looks away from the man, shivering against the chill of air-condition and the sheer atmosphere, suddenly pouncing and grappling for the clothes that had been laid out for his future on the back of a chair.

* * *

Shards of glass from the syringe crunch under the soles of his shoes and he pauses to stare down at the drops of liquid on the clinically clean tile floor. He is vaguely aware that it would have been used to dispose of him, but it doesn't touch him just yet. It is much too early.

It is hours later that it sets in and he is standing on the edge of a building, peering down at the Naturally Disgusting, the swarm of worms eating the planet alive everyone calls humans. But he... he, what he now identifies as 'Roppi', is even worse. He is an Artificial Worm.

"Nee~"

The tone is silken and so sudden that it surprises him into swaying on the edge. Cold apathy, nothing, nothing in his eyes as he is teetering, stumbling, almost-

And more silk, now on his wrist, curling around it in a delicious wrap. Warm silk, the sort of silk that makes him utter an involuntary moan and he has to look from under fluttering lashes, Who…?

"I don't think someone like you~ should be doing that, really~"

A knifesharp smile around that silky smooth tongue and oh, the eyes of dark maroon that dance and dance and dance and Roppi is so lightheaded from their beckoning gleam that his body steers from the edge and moves with the force of Earth gravity towards Seduction Incarnate. A solid chest against another solid chest, clothes in-between and he is helpless against this Enigma, a human inhumanly wonderful and dizzying with his dancing eyes.

It's all a beautiful moment of irresistible sudden and alluring unexpected as the human laughs and his arms envelope Roppi on reflex, the slimmer form stiffening to hold them both upright. He tilts his head and the glittering, proudly playful eyes of rich maroon lift to willingly meet his. Roppi ducks his head too late and finds with newfound, uncertain anxiety that…

…his synthetic heart had skipped a beat.


End file.
